


Fevered Delirium

by hawkflyer667



Series: Snippets of Fluff in the Lives of Merlin and Arthur Pendragon [15]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Fever, M/M, Merlin's a physician, arthur refuses to admit he can get sick, he has to take care of the whiny git, sick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-29
Updated: 2013-10-29
Packaged: 2017-12-30 19:42:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1022641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hawkflyer667/pseuds/hawkflyer667
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur's sick but refuses to admit it. Merlin's worried but refuses to show it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fevered Delirium

Merlin paused when his footsteps brought him closer to the giant arching wood door. Normally, at this point of the morning, he could see streams of light coming through and hear Arthur rattling around inside, especially since he was late. On a usual morning of the sort, he'd be ripped into with a scathing tongue before even stepping over the threshold.

But besides the fact that it was ten minutes (give or take a few) after he was supposed to get Arthur up and he didn't even have breakfast in his hands yet, the room was dark and dreary. No sounds emitted. Frowning-- because all it meant was that Arthur hadn't awoken himself and now he was in for a tongue-lashing he'd never forget-- he pushed through the door and headed for the window.

The lump in the bed didn't stir, even with the scraping of the door against the ground. Odd. It wasn't as if he had done anything to mask the sound. Ignoring it for now, Merlin moved over and pulled the (dusty) shades away from the window, flapping the curtains. Sunlight streamed through the gaps but the lump in the bed just turned around to grumble something quiet.

Merlin pouted before forcing a winning smile on his face. This was a partial revenge to all the rude awakenings and general pratishness of Arthur's life. Sweeping the curtains the rest of the way open, he let out an ear-piercing, slightly-condescending yell. "Good /morning/, my lord! The sun is up, the birds are chirping, and so must you be to greet them. Come on, up and at 'em!" 

The lump that was Arthur just let out a pitiful moan and turned closer into the pillows, easily sending the non-verbal command to /go away/.

He did no such thing. Moving over to the bed, he started tugging at the blankets, continuing to chant certain phrases like "up and at 'em" and "come on, lazy daisy" and other things he knew Arthur despised. He made no motion to hide the blooming smile that formed across his face.

But instead of cheerfully fighting him as usual, tossing their common insults back and forth in a mixture of playful banter, Arthur just let out another whine and threw his hand out as if to fight him off. Merlin frowned, shaking his shoulder. "You're going to be-- well. More late than you already are if you don't get up."

The King's eyes cracked open and Merlin caught a glimpse of hazy blue eyes. "Good morning," he grinned lopsidedly, unable to halt the wave of affection that swarmed over him to see his King looking so young and innocent. 

Arthur only groaned in reply, hand coming out and fumbling for something Merlin assumed was the goblet of water he had left there the night before when Arthur fell asleep claiming a headache. He hated when the man had migraines-- he still wasn't sure how to fix or treat them and even Gaius was a bit stumped, only able to treat the symptoms and not the main idea itself.

Helping Arthur sit up, he pressed the King's body back against the headboard and easily rearranged some of the massive amounts of pillows to make sure he was comfortable. "What's wrong?" he said softly, handing over the goblet.

After consuming almost half of its contents in one gulp and swallowing painfully, Arthur glanced at Merlin for the first time. "Throat hurts," he said thickly-- voice sounding as if had experimented with the tobacco some of the Knights had bought off some travelling merchants the other day. Merlin frowned. 

"You're sick?"

"No!" Arthur was quick to deny. "No. Of course not. I--- I don't get /sick/." But his voice and general demeanour was enough to prove to the contrary, listing to the side while he talked as if he was too weak to even hold himself up.

"Yeah," Merlin said sarcastically, "course you don't. Now, come on, lay back down and relax. I'll go tell the Chamber Council you can't meet with them today."

Arthur's eyes grew wide and he jolted, attempting to scramble out of bed- only Merlin's quick reaction halted him before he was on his feet. "Arthur."

"Merlin! I need to go meet with my noblemen-- they -- they can't see that --" his voice broke off into a fit of coughing and it wasn't until Merlin gently pushed him back onto the bed did they stop, leaving him blustering for air. 

"They'll understand, Arthur," Merlin said soothingly, used to treating patients who felt they weren't as bad off as Gaius told them they were. He knew Arthur's stubborn attitude-- this was nothing new. 

But Arthur /was/ right-- he rarely got sick and Merlin couldn't help the mother-hen attitude that bloomed. He tucked the (arguing feebly) man back into bed and gently smoothed the hair off his forehead. 

Arthur jolted under his hands. "What are you---"

"Shush." He pressed his hand firmly down on his forehead, checking for fever. It was a bit warmer than it should be, enough to put him on edge. "Your headache still here from last night? And do you feel a bit light-headed? Cold?"

His jaw set-- Merlin watched, unamused, as Arthur started to revert to his stubborn-child mindset where he would genuinely attempt to be the most annoying person on the face of the planet. "Thank you, /Doctor/, but I think I'm fine. Now if you stop /touching/ me and delaying me longer, I have ---" his voice trailed off, winded, but he caught it back and continued, "-- a council meeting to attend."

Merlin just raised an eyebrow-- Arthur himself must be able to hear how bad he sounded. His voice was ragged and choppy and his breath was short. Softly, after a few seconds of silence, he leaned back against the pillows.

Giving in, for the moment at least.

His hand returned to Arthur's forehead, testing it with both the palm and the back of his hand, feeling for radiating heat. It was enough to cause a bit of alarm. "Can you answer my questions, please?"

Arthur grumbled, frown growing, but nodded. "....'m head hurts, still," he murmured, hands fumbling for the blankets. Merlin assisted him in dragging them closely around his body. "And I'm cold."

"Right," Merlin said, biting his lip. He was afraid of that. Too many night-time practices where it was cold and a bit wet. "I'm going to need to check other places, but I think you have a fever."

"/Other places?/" Arthur drawled, raising an eyebrow. "Gaius only ever needs to check my head."

"But I'm not Gaius," Merlin shot back, "and I need to be sure before I bother him. Please. Let me hold your hand for a moment."

"Merlin, I..."

"Stop being a child and just give me your hand." He reached over and snatched it, trying to pretend that he didn't just want to be able to run his fingers across Arthur's calloused, warm ones. 

Too warm.

Frowning, Merlin cupped Arthur's hand in his own, testing it /scientifically/ by placing it against his cheek because it was the most sensitive to heat. 

Arthur watched, unamused.

It was too hot-- it felt clammy and warm against his cheek. Letting go and giving Arthur his hand back, the man retracted it quickly and glanced at him, a question in his eyes. 

"So? What did forcing me to caress your face prove?"

Merlin just raised an eyebrow and ignored him. "I need to feel your stomach."

"What?!"

"Arthur, honestly!" his cheeks bloomed with a flush this time-- he hadn't yet achieved the physician's detached nature, especially when it came to Arthur and the body he may or may not have fantasized about nearly every night. But he forced himself to ignore it, steadily meeting Arthur's flabbergasted gaze.  
"You're kidding me, right? How could you possibly gain any knowledge by running your grubby hands across my stomach?"

"Hands, head, and stomach are the three places that will get hot and clammy if you have a fever, Arthur. Your head and your hands already worry me-- I need to check the last place as well. If it doesn't seem too hot, it might just be because you spent the night curled up in blankets, but if it feels like the rest of your body than I can go and get you a potion or two that should help."

Arthur frowned, but Merlin's argument was sound and he found nothing to disagree with. He pushed down the blankets and oved so Merlin could perch on the side of the bed.

Without allowing any sort of emotion to show on his face-- you touched his skin hundreds of times, Merlin, stop it-- he dragged up the hem of his shirt and tried to pretend he didn't hear Arthur's breath hitch.

"Well, don't just look at it," Arthur's voice growled from above-- his muscles looked tense, he wasn't feeling well and didn't seem happy about how this was progressing.

Merlin swallowed, shaking his head and gently skimmed his fingers across the warm expanse of tanned skin, trying not to allow his gaze or his fingers to wander close to the prominent v-lines of his hips that appeared over the edge of his sleeping trousers.

Arthur's body jolted at the contact and Merlin jerked back his hands. "God! What?!"

"Sorry," he stammered-- was his voice a bit strained? Merlin couldn't help a bit of pink to stain his cheeks but forced himself to remain aloof. 

"I didn't get anything I needed," he said coldly, and Arthur flushed softly as well. "Go ahead. Your hands were cold, I got a bit startled."

Merlin rolled his eyes and -- second time being easier-- placed a full hand down on his stomach. Arthur's eyes actually fluttered closed for a moment and Merlin glanced up at him, confused.

"Your hand's cold," he said after a second, looking embarrassed. "Like I said before. 'xept this time its-- it feels nice." His voice-- still cracked and painful-- seemed to just ooze awkwardness. Merlin didn't feel it deemed an answer.

Arthur's stomach was raging hot-- it was a fever, obviously, he could tell from the very first touch-- but he couldn't help but allow his hand to linger on the warm flesh for a few moments longer than acceptable.

Arthur didn't seem to fight it, instead his eyes just glanced leisurely down. As if-- as if he was okay with it.

"Am I sick, doc?" he joked softly when Merlin pulled away his hand and pulled down his shirt-- his face showed the obvious signs of fever now that he knew what to look for. A bit pale, sweaty, his eyes had a sheen they didn't normally carry.

"Mmm. I'll go get Gaius," he murmured, standing up.

"Merlin?"

He glanced down at Arthur, who seemed dwarfed by the pillows and things. "Ca---" he seemed to change his mind, coughing slightly. "How long am I going to be like this? I can't afford-- " he was forced to cough again, a deep racking sound that put Merlin's teeth on edge. He wanted to help but wasn't sure how, "can't afford to be sick in bed for more than a day or two."

Merlin paused, sitting back down. "Depends on how sick you really are," he shrugged. "No more night practices, okay? If-- if I didn't catch this now, you could have gotten worse." A casual hand fell on Arthur's leg, comforting him even through the blankets. "It could have turned into pneumonia, which could be deadly."

Arthur paled and Merlin hastened to reply. "It's-- god, Arthur, no! I don't think it is pneumonia. You're fine, it's just-- its probably just from being outside for too long. You're just going to need to take it easy for a few days. I'll cancel all your appointments and make sure everything's taken care of, okay?"

Arthur's eyes were drooping, it was obvious he was falling asleep. He smiled softly. "It's also going to make you sleepy." 

He looked so innocent, laying there. Like a child. Merlin couldn't help smoothing some hair off of his forehead, and to his surprise, Arthur leaned into the touch.

Two pairs of eyes met-- startled, gray-blue ones and dazed sky-colored that seemed as if they were covered with a haze of cloud. Merlin didn't retract his hand.

"Thank you," Arthur murmured. "for-- you know. Putting up with me. I know-- I can be an ass."

Merlin blinked but smiled softly. "I'll go get Gaius, okay?" His thumb gently caressed Arthur's cheek for a moment. The man nodded blearily, obviously slipping back into sleep and not half as clear as when Merlin first woke him. It was common, fevered delusion.

He stared at the man for a moment and then, before his courage faded, pressed a small kiss on Arthur's forehead. The man blinked at him for a moment and a small smile appeared on his lips.

Standing up, Merlin quickly moved out of the room, assuring Arthur he'd be back soon. Closing the wooden door behind him, he slumped against the wall.  
Most likely he wouldn't remember any of it- he was gripped in the beginning of fever. But-- he didn't pull away, either. Grinning softly to himself, he hastened downstairs to find Gaius.

Perhaps fevers weren't so bad after all.

**Author's Note:**

> And the whole head, hands, stomach thing is an actual old wive's tale that my mom swears by.


End file.
